


more and more

by clairelutra (exosolarmoon), sharpshooting



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: (tagging for warning purposes; the punch at prom gets spiked), Alternate Universe - High School, Drink Spiking, F/M, Flirting, Fluff, Getting to Know Each Other, Misunderstandings, Pining, Prom, Secret Admirer, Underage Drinking, hectic event hosting, i just tagged the ones with more than one speaking scene, im js, implied acxeith, lots of characters are mentioned lowkey, mentioned matt/lotor, the Popular Kids are all messes because WE are all messes, zethrid is the kind of jock that shoves nerds in lockers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-02-14
Updated: 2018-02-14
Packaged: 2019-03-18 07:40:39
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,365
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13677252
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/exosolarmoon/pseuds/clairelutra, https://archiveofourown.org/users/sharpshooting/pseuds/sharpshooting
Summary: they say love can't lift you up no morebut boy you lift me like a major chordIn which Lance is Allura's not-so-secret admirer, Allura's been slowly coming around, and itmighthave all gone off without a hitch if prom hadn't been right around the corner. Alas.





	more and more

**Author's Note:**

  * For [ibupony](https://archiveofourown.org/users/ibupony/gifts).



> (currently unbeta'd, trying to fix that, all mistakes are my own, etcetcetc)
> 
> HAPPY VALENTINES DAY IBUPONY ♥♥♥
> 
> you wanted fluff and softly-pining lance and high school au and i think i only *really* made good on the last but h ey
> 
> i hope you enjoy this ('v')b

"Oh, there's a... _rose._ "

Allura looked up from packing her gym bag, her hair damp from her recent shower, and found that there was, indeed, a rose. Lotor was holding it like a dirty rag, wrinkling his nose at its passion-red half-bloomed petals. There was a tag hanging at the base of the stem, artistically aged with a calligraphy capital letter A visible from Allura's side of the half-wall.

"Oh!" said Ezor, bouncing past Allura and popping her heel as she pushed herself up onto the bricks. She hadn't even bothered to change out of her leotard. "It's your secret admirer again, Allura!"

"He's not..." Allura started, and then sighed. He was 'secret admirer' to them until she started dating him, she'd been told multiple times before. "Give me that."

"Guys," said Acxa, soccer ball balanced on her hip, as Lotor handed over Allura's rose. "We're going to be late."

Ezor launched off the wall with a frazzled, "Coming, coming!" and dove for her own gym bag, but the antics faded out of Allura's focus as she opened the note.

> _You look amazing today._
> 
> _Lance_

Allura bit the corner of her mouth, warmth flooding her face as much as it flooded her chest, a flutter of pleasure in the pit of her stomach.

She looked across the quad, knowing that either Keith was in detention and Lance was waiting for him, or _Lance_ was in detention and _Keith_ was waiting for him, and found that ratty green jacket even quicker than she thought she would.

Catching Lance's eye, she smiled, raising a hand in greeting, and then swallowed down on a laugh when Lance flailed like he was trying to figure out how to return the gesture, eventually settling on some ridiculous 'paint me like one of your french girls' pose across the bench he sat on.

It was unfair to call Lance a _secret_ admirer, really—sure, they didn't really _talk_ , but he signed his gifts as clear as day. Candy bars on her backpack, roses in places she was sure to find them, notes with little compliments that always managed to make her day. None not a one crossed a line, either; it was all, 'You look beautiful in that dress,' or 'Thanks for helping Pidge out. You're really nice, you know that?' or 'Congratulations on the fundraiser turnout. We couldn't have done it without you.'

Sweet. It was _sweet,_ being _courted_ like some nineteenth-century maiden.

 _He_ was sweet.

Not that anyone else seemed to know that. Every time he came up in conversation, her friends mocked him without fail—and they weren't the only ones. Lance had class-clown-slash-troublemaker down to an art form. She wasn't sure if even his friends took him seriously.

And, to be fair, every time she'd managed to speak to him, he always had some ridiculous, dorky, laugh-worthy pick-up line ready.

Not that she'd managed to speak with him much. She had more extracurriculars than most of her friends could sneeze at, and Lance shared none of them.

But... before the courtship, she'd thought the same as everyone else: that Lance was the kind of harmless idiot that reenacted internet memes in his spare time.

...Well. She hadn't been _wrong_ , but she saw now that that wasn't all there was to him.

She traced the edges of the note with a fond smile, and then folded it back up and put it and the rose on top of her bag.

Ezor, Acxa, and Lotor had left while she was distracted, which was pretty much expected. They had their debate club meeting right after she and Ezor had cheerleading practice. She herself needed to get to the library soon so she could make it to her tutoring appointment in time, so her hair was going to have to air-dry today.

With one last lingering glance in Lance's direction, Allura picked herself up and finished getting ready.

* * *

It was a few months into this that she realized that, if she couldn't track him down to talk to one-on-one, then maybe she could pass notes back.

It had been a note or two a week, candy and roses erratic but _present_ , and Allura was too well-bred to let that go without thanks.

She thought about sending a simple 'thank you' note, but then realized that that could be read as 'thanks but no thanks,' and that wasn't what she wanted to say at all, so she went back to the drawing board.

She debated the idea of returning the favor in terms of gifts, but then realized that it might look like she was regifting _his_ gifts, or trying to outshine him, or both, so she couldn't do that either.

In the end, staring at that little note that read, _You look amazing today,_ she decided that maybe... maybe she could return _that_ favor. The compliments that meant so much to her.

Maybe he'd appreciate them like she did.

She picked up a few sheets of pretty blue paper when she went out to secure the decorations for the upcoming prom, and lined it with white, doodling stars over the outside in silver gel pen—because what was even the _point_ if she couldn't manage half the style he did?

She debated what she should put in it for a few days though, scribbling down and scribbling out thought after thought in her many notebooks. _Your hair looks nice_ sounded trite, but _Your hair looks soft_ sounded creepy. _Your jokes are funny_ sounded forced, _Thank you for supporting me_ sounded like something someone would put in their Youtube video description, and _Do you want to go out for milkshakes or something some time?_ would have been perfect _if only she knew when she could make good on it_.

It wasn't until their one shared class that week, History, that she finally came up with the perfect line. She was staring at his bag, at the superhero pins and anime charms he'd bedazzed its surface with, when he got up to go to the bathroom. She finally had a clear view of his collection.

And among those superhero pins and anime charms, there were a couple of band patches too.

Allura fished her empty card out of her folder and scribbled down a quick, _Forever the Sickest Kids is great. You have good taste. -Allura_ inside, and then leaned over so she toss it onto top of the half-open front pocket.

Maybe it was a little _too_ casual, but it wasn't creepy or trite, so it would have to do.

Lotor, whose desk she had to lean over to get there, squinted at her through his artful fringe, but that was the only reaction she got to her decision.

Lance came back, not sparing a glance at his bag as he sprawled his long limbs out in his chair, and Allura frowned (pouted) a little at her desk. Damn it, but she wanted to _see_ his reaction.

She sneaked glances at him throughout the rest of class, on the edge of her seat as she waited for the drop, but it didn't happen until after the bell had rung and everyone started packing up their bags. She'd given up watching him at that point, figuring it wasn't going to happen _soon_ and that she should probably make sure she wasn't about to tank on their next quiz.

She'd just slung her own backpack over her shoulder when she caught sight of Lance out of the corner of her eye. He was standing stock-still and staring at his hands. Her heart leaped into her throat as she realized that that was _definitely_ her note that he was frowning at.

...Wait. _Frowning?_

She froze herself, watching him rescan the note a few times and then look up and look around, scowling and snapping something at Pidge, who sat next to him. She couldn't hear exactly how Pidge replied through the shuffle, but the acerbic, tired tones carried across clear enough.

Pidge met Allura's anxious gaze, and rolled her eyes as she jerked her head to Lance, gesturing at him to turn around before bending down to finish packing her oversized backpack.

Lance turned obligingly, his eyes going wide as he found Allura watching the exchange.

Allura raised her hand and have him a shy little wave.

Lance slowly raised the note, pointing at it with a complicated, disbelieving look on his face.

Allura squeezed the strap of her bag and glanced away, the sides of her own face going hot.

She considered just walking away and leaving her shame behind her (why had he reacted so... _badly?_ Had she been misreading this all along?) but something made her check, just in case.

Lance had gone a bright, _comical_ shade of crimson, the whites of his eyes even more startlingly present than they normally were.

Allura bit the corner of her lip against the giggle, and waved again as she followed Lotor out of the room.

Well, that didn't go _nearly_ as bad as it could have, she thought. Maybe... maybe this could work out?

She sure hoped so.

* * *

She slipped him a few more notes over the next couple of weeks, some responses to his notes and some just... idle observations.

_Thank you. My father gave it to me for my birthday._

_They're lucky to have you as a friend._

_Good luck on the test! ♥_

It was around the time she sent that last one that she realized that she needed to be thinking about who to go to prom with.

This was more for appearances than any particular desire on her own part—she could probably say she was too busy making sure it went off without a hitch to escape the stigma of going alone, but she was never one to do things by halves, and appearances were _very_ important when one was the heiress of Altea Inc..

And there wasn't really anyone she _wanted_ to go with, really. She had a faint thought about going with Lance, but he'd have to ask her first (again, appearances) and for all of their school's other events, he'd been more interested in spiking the punch and messing with the sound system than actually _attending_ , so, you know. She wasn't expecting much on that front.

Thankfully, Shiro was usually willing to do her a favor. He, like her, never really wanted to go with anyone in particular, and was willing to play arm-candy while she hissed at the catering and tried to keep the decorations from falling apart.

He was the football captain and quarterback, too. If there was anything more high school romcom-cliche than the head cheerleader going to prom with the captain of the football team, she couldn't think of it.

Tapping her pen on the edge of her paper, she made up her mind to track him down as soon as the test let out, knowing she had about ten minutes between the time Shiro's class got out and the time she had to leave to attend a society meeting for her father.

* * *

It was even more convenient than that—he was on the edge of the field that met with the parking lot where Coran had the company car idling.

"Shiro? May I speak to you for a moment?"

Shiro looked up, met her eye, and gave Keith one last clap on the shoulder before joining her by the black Camaro. Waving at Coran, he asked Allura, "What's up?"

"I am sorry to ask this of you," she said, not even having the grace to look him in the eye as she tried to wrangle her hair into something acceptable while she was still allowed to stand. She'd long since discovered that brushing long hair while in the back of a cramped car simply wasn't _possible._ She stuck a ponytail holder between her teeth. "But did you have any plans for this year's prom?"

Shiro took the loop from her teeth and gestured at her to turn around. "I did not," he said as he gathered her hair into his broad, warm hand and plucked the brush from her fingers. "Do you need a date?"

Allura let out a sigh of heartfelt relief. It was always so _awkward_ asking him to do this—she dreaded the day he'd have _plans_ she'd need to work around, but she kind of wished for it too. Surely there were much better people he could be spending his time with. "I do."

Shiro gave her hair another few strokes with the brush, then pulled it up into a simple high tail with an easy twist and a snap of the band. He placed the brush back in her hands, and she turned around to return his kindly smile.

"Thank you, Shiro."

"No problem." He kissed her forehead, familial and warm. "See you next Friday?"

"Mm," Allura agreed. "Wear black."

"I will," he promised, and then looked behind her. A confused frown wrinkled his brow. "Hey, Lance. Did you need something?"

Allura's heart sank like a stone, the roiling pit of guilt in her stomach swallowing it whole. Which was silly, because She didn't have anything to be guilty for... right?

(She knew she didn't actually _have_ anything to be guilty for, but it would certainly _look_ like she had something to be guilty for depending on how much of the exchange Lance had caught. She hoped he'd caught more of it than she suspected he had, but...)

"Oh," said Lance, his voice cracking on that single noise. "No, no, nothing. I just, uh, wanted to thank Allura. You know. For the note."

Fears confirmed, Allura couldn't bring herself to turn around.

"Note...?" Shiro echoed curiously, looking between the miserable look on her face and whatever the look on Lance's face was.

She had to make this right, she _had to._

But how?

"Uh!" Lance squawked, clothing rustling as he gestured. "No, nothing. It's nothing! I'll just, uh—"

Allura turned on her heel, _it's not what it looks like_ and _we were just—_ and _I was only asking Shiro because I thought you wouldn't_ all springing to the forefront of her mind at once—

Lance met her eye for two stunned seconds. Then the corner of his mouth ticked up, a defense reaction that didn't reach his eyes, and he glanced away.

"Sorry for interrupting," he said easily, smiling without smiling at all. "I just thought..." He coughed, and the wistful note vanished. "Never mind. You guys have fun at prom!"

And with that, he was gone.

Allura stared at the space he had been, and, oddly, wanted to cry.

It wasn't like it was _unreasonable_ for her to ask Shiro like she always did. She and Lance weren't dating, weren't even really _friends_ beyond the slightly flirtatious notes, and yet...

"Note?" Shiro repeated, now even more curious than before.

Allura hung her head, scrubbing her face against the fierce ache in her chest. Haltingly, she said, "I... We had a test in History. I wished him good luck."

There was so, so, _so_ much context left out of that explanation, but Shiro made a thoughtful little noise anyway.

"...Did you want to go to prom with him?"

"I mean, I doubt I would have the time to be a proper date. I'm sure he wouldn't want to be dragged along while I manage things. Thank you for putting up with that, by the way."

Shiro hummed, eyeing her in a way that said that he'd noticed her dodge the question, but was letting it slide. "I don't mind. It's interesting." Then, before Allura could finish breathing a sigh of relief, he added, "But, you know... I bet Lance would think it's interesting too."

Allura flinched, cheeks hot.

"I don't mind _not_ having a date, if you found someone you _really_ wanted to go with," he murmured. He smiled wryly, knowingly. "Just... to let you know."

Allura slumped, heat aching sharply at the reminder. "I'll... keep that in mind. Thank you."

"Hmm," said Shiro, and then his teammates started calling to him. "Let me know."

With one last wave over his shoulder, he left too.

Allura scrubbed her face again, heedless of her makeup, and then opened the car door.

 _"Well,"_ said Coran as she slid into her seat. "That was certainly _exciting._ Will you be alright for the luncheon?"

Allura didn't answer that—if she did, it would be a negative, and saying 'no' was a luxury she didn't have.

Her butler took the car out of 'park.' "...You know," he suggested as they purred toward the street, "it may not be my place to say, but... that looked like a prime-time silver-screen misunderstanding to me. Perhaps you want to think about clearing it up?"

"Yes," Allura sighed, and pulled her compact out of her purse so she could fix her face. "I know. I'll... I'll think about it."

"Fair enough."

First though, she had to survive a lot of catty socialites in a country club.

* * *

She survived the socialites, but everything _else_ went downhill from there.

It took her far too long to figure out how to explain to Lance what had happened, and by the time she finally thought she had the right words— _days_ later, no less—the prom was in the slow process of implosion.

It wasn't even _Friday_ yet.

It started with the catering, because it was _always_ the catering. The company in charge of the cake for the graduating seniors called to say that their funds (the ones Principal Zarkon had _promised_ she'd have access to) were insufficient, which meant that she could either pay it out of her own pocket or lose the engagement. Her own pocket was deep enough to cover it, sure, but she wasn't _supposed_ to have to pay for a school event she'd _fundraised for_.

This meant that the Principal was probably siphoning the school coffers _again_ and Allura, like a fool, hadn't gotten it in writing exactly what those funds were going to be used for. Her catering was going to quit and she couldn't even take Zarkon to court for it!

She'd just decided to cut her losses and pay for it when the basement flooded in an unseasonable storm—the damage of which was mostly-defunct equipment, a whole lot of cleaning supplies... and all the decorations she'd stashed down there.

The streamers were gone, the fog machine kaput, and the glitter would have to be ceremoniously scraped off every hard stone surface if it was to be used. The balloons were _technically_ in good condition, but the cleaning supplies had spilled into the ankle-deep pool of water on the ground, and Allura wasn't good enough at chemistry to know whether helium turned ammonia and chlorine into anything particularly dangerous. She made the executive decision to leave the balloons floating in chemical soup for the janitor to take care of; the fifty dollars she'd spent on them was barely more than her breakfast that morning had cost.

Which, alright, was _unfortunate_ , but not nearly as unfortunate as _both_ the party supply companies she went to having delivery issues in her area on the same week. She was forced to outsource her streamers from an _extremely_ shady wholesale retailer she'd never done business with before, and _they_ could only promise her her supplies 'sometime 'round the weekend, eh, little lady?'

All throughout this mess, she hadn't heard a peep from Lance. Not a flower, not a chocolate, not a note—she barely caught glimpses of him in the hallways anymore.

She knew why, _she knew why_ , and it was her own fault but it still _bit._ If ever there was a time she could use a word of encouragement, now was it.

But, of course, Lance _probably_ thought Shiro was already doing that and that his presence wouldn't be welcome (and that she was a bitch at best and unfaithful at worst for implying that it was)—much less as desperately wished for as it was.

By the time Wednesday rolled around, Allura was about ready to cry. All she needed _now_ was for the gym to flood.

It wouldn't, of course, because that would give her a legitimate excuse to put prom off for a week or two to get her bearings back. At this point, Allura was pretty sure that the only thin the universe liked more than causing property damage was screwing with her.

It was somewhere between ducking out of Calculus to sort out the payment plan for the catering and receiving a large box of (shady but largely intact) party supplies at the front gates—while she was really _supposed_ to be at tennis practice—that Allura decided that this was a _treat yo' self_ kind of day.

It was with this thought in mind that she called in sick to all of her afternoon's responsibilities, put on her pink pea coat _and_ her black Ray Bans, and crashed the local Ruby's Diner with but one goal in mind: _a milkshake._

The poor cashier took one look at her face, blanched, and babbled, "Whatever c-can I today for you _get?_ M-miss?"

Allura removed the black scowl from her face with what felt like _surgical_ force of will, and the ordering process continued much smoother from there.

Double large chocolate malted milkshake to-go now in hand, Allura turned towards the door, all set to _march_ right into her bed if that was what it took to get her there...

"Lance, I swear— _Shiro_ swears it was _nothing._ She asks him every year because he's the only one who puts up with it. They're not together! Just fucking _stop moping_ and _go and ask her to prom."_

A voice that was distinctly Lance's whined, "You don't _know_ that," _just_ within Allura's hearing range, and she realized that that was definitely Keith's mullet poking over the back of the booth a few tables over.

Oh, my.

Maybe... Maybe if she went over and said it herself... She'd been wanting to explain herself to him—but then he might not believe her.... Maybe if she got _Shiro_ to say it?

Head in the clouds, her feet started carrying her in that direction before she could really think about it.

"I _do_ know that, stop calling Shiro a liar," Keith snapped, scowling across the booth. Then he sighed, dropped his head, and ground the heel of his hand against his temple—this was obviously not the first time they'd had this argument. "Geez, Lance. _I'm_ telling _you_ to ask a girl out. Just... think about that for a minute."

Very muffled, Lance's voice sounded from somewhere almost under the table. "Shut uuup," and then, much clearer, "me and 'Llura aren't _like_ you and Acxa—"

Keith, who'd been starting to suck the very last drips of soda out of the ice at the bottom of his glass, let go of the straw and choked, sputtering, "There is nothing—I do _not_ like Acxa, what the _fuck_ Lance— _This has nothing to do with that!"_

"—Like, you and Acxa have _so much in common_ ," Lance continued like he hadn't even heard him. "You can stand around and brood and talk about sports and being goth _Kool Kids_ and stuff. Me and Allura?"

Keith stopped choking and looked up. His cheeks were flushed an unflattering shade of red until he met Allura's eye, and then they blanched back to his normal vampire-ish white. He looked back at Lance and started frantically drawing his finger over his throat.

"We're like _Quasimodo_ and _Phoebus_ ," Lance moaned, oblivious, and Keith paused with his hand halfway across his throat.

"You mean Quasimodo and Esmeralda?"

"No! Have you _seen_ Allura? She should totally be rocking the gold armor!"

Allura's heart swelled—she _would_ rock that gold armor, and she appreciated Lance saying so—but Keith was less impressed.

"...Uh."

"And I'm just a hunchback in a church... Or a street rat— _shit._ Dammit! I'm Aladdin! She's Jasmine! Genies don't exist and this will _never work!_ She's _perfect_ and I'm just..."

"Oh-kay," Keith interrupted dubiously, "but uh, maybe _now_ isn't the ti—"

"Like," said Lance, on a roll like a runaway bowling ball, "what would we even _talk about?_ Video games? _Sparkly things?_ I'm telling you, Keith—"

Keith was making 'no-go' gestures that got less subtle the more Lance spoke, his eyes flickering between the head of short-cropped brown hair in front of him and Allura's unforgiving Ray Bans.

"—there is absolutely _no way_ things would _ever_ work between me and Allura, and I'm _glad_ Shiro gave me that wake-up call because otherwise I would have made a _huge idiot_ of myself trying to ask her to prom."

There was an awful note of finality to his voice, and it rang in Allura's ears as she offered, "...I like sparkly things."

Lance went still as stone.

Keith slowly put his hand on his forehead and rubbed small circles around his temple.

Allura brought the straw of her forgotten milkshake up to her mouth and stuffed her free hand in her pocket, sudden knots wiggling around in her stomach. _Had she really done the right thing in announcing her presence?_ she wondered. Maybe she should have just exited out the other door and pretended she hadn't heard a thing. She'd wanted to clear up Lance's misconceptions, but maybe now was a bad time...

Lance turned around so slowly she could almost hear the creak of his hinges, and stared up at her with saucer-wide eyes.

Keith sighed. Not removing his hand from his face, he said, "Hi Allura."

"Hello, Keith," said Allura, fighting down the ball of nerves. "Isn't the soccer team supposed to be practicing right now?"

Unmoving except for his mouth, Keith replied, "We can't. The girls' team stole the field from us."

"Oh," said Allura with a blink. Maybe she should speak to Sendak. She didn't think that should have happened. "Sorry about that."

Keith nodded, which could either be an agreement or just a polite acknowledgement, and didn't answer.

Lance, having been given the proper time to process, let out a faint, pressurized squeak.

Allura inhaled, the nervous butterflies in her stomach redoubling, fisted her hand inside her pocket, and said, "Um. About before... I wanted to a-apologize. And explain. I didn't—"

"No!" Lance yelped.

Allura blinked, startled. _No?_

Lance let out a laugh that was more strain than not, waving his hands in a 'it's fine' sort of gesture. "No, you don't need to explain anything. C-can I ask— Um. How-much-of-that-did-you-hear?"

Allura opened her mouth, but Lance was going too fast for her to get a word in edgewise.

"Not! That it matters, heh." He scrambled out of the booth, and Allura stepped back to give him room to do it. "I know you didn't really mean the— the heart, I know, thanks for wishing me luck! S-sorry for bugging you so much, I'll, um, s-stop. With the notes and stuff. I know you're probably _really_ sick of them by now, so I-I'll... stop."

"I—" was all Allura managed by way of protest before Lance was clapping her shoulder and making to leave.

"Sorry! You're, uh, really great, and I thought..." He shook his head, grinning brightly as he backstepped towards the exit. "Never mind. You're great! Good luck with the prom!"

And then he was gone.

Keith let out a long, low, heartfelt groan, then shoved himself up too. "Sorry about him—I'd say he's not usually this much of an idiot, but he is. Later."

Allura raised her hand in numb farewell to the both of them, milkshake melting as she tried to sort out what exactly had just happened.

She wasn't sure, but she kind of suspected that she'd just made things even worse, somehow.

She made her way back to Coran and levered her tired bones back into the company car, forlornly looking forward to a solid sixteen hours of not dealing with anything but her down quilt.

At least her bed was always there for her.

* * *

She got her down quilt and her sixteen hours, and it helped her _immensely_ , heartache and all. She even managed to face down Sendak, that crotchety old asshole, with a smile. It was a minor miracle.

She got the schedule for the field, noting the double-bookings that would indeed allow the girls' soccer team to steal the field from the boys' (and vice versa, but Keith was the captain of the boys' team, and he _usually_ had better manners than that, authority problem and all), and hashed them back down to single bookings with fair time slots for all involved.

She had to wait until the that evening to catch both Zethrid and Keith at the same time, but in the meantime, she tracked down another fog machine and double-checked that the gym would be in decent condition when she needed it.

They'd managed to raise enough with the bake sale and book fair to hire people to decorate it for her, so she ensured that her handymen were free the day of prom ( _oh god, it was tomorrow_ ) and forwarded them their instructions between her classes.

She spent the rest of her free time scrambling to catch up with her homework, and then Keith was out of his football practice and Zethrid was out of her glee club.

She got them to meet outside of the changing rooms and, Zethrid's huffing aside, she updated them on the new schedule easily enough.

Zethrid left, but Keith called out to Allura before she could follow.

"Hey," he said when she looked back in confusion, "about yesterday..."

Ah yes. _Yesterday._

She cringed a little into her coat at the memory, her heartache making a stinging comeback.

Keith went on, "Look, I know he's an idiot, but he's... he's not bad."

"Strong praise," she noted in tired amusement.

"He's pretty _good,_ actually, and he really likes you." Keith scratched the back of his head. "And I think... I'm not great at this stuff, but I think you might like him too."

Aaaand the blush was back. Lovely.

"I can yell at him to talk to you all day and he won't listen to me," he grumbled. "I've _tried._ Shiro and Acxa tried too. None of us are getting through."

Acxa? She'd mentioned something earlier about going to apologize to Keith for Zethrid, but Allura hadn't realized she'd stopped to talk.

Keith sighed and dropped his hand, rolling his shoulder and, turning on his heel, absently kicking a stray soccer ball back into its corral. "I think you could, though. I think he'd listen to you. He usually does."

"That's..." Allura started, blinking. "He does?"

"He was pretty sure he was going to fail that test until you sent him that note... or so I gathered." Keith gave her a sideways glance. "He believes you, you know? And believes _in_ you, too."

 _Ahh..._ Allura swallowed, finding herself suddenly unable to meet his eye.

"Look, I'm just saying..." He wasn't really meeting her eye either now. "He gets tied up in his own head sometimes. It doesn't happen a lot, but sometimes... sometimes he just needs to be set straight. So I'm asking you to set him straight. None of the rest of us can."

"I..." said Allura, and then realized she had no idea what to say. She and Keith had never really been friends either, just... friends of friends of friends, casual acquaintances sharing the same overlapping circles. She wasn't sure what to do with this show of faith. "...I'll do my best."

It seemed to be the right thing to say, at least. Keith nodded respectfully and left the way Zethrid had gone.

Now Allura just needed to figure out what 'her best' was.

* * *

Whatever it was, and it wasn't enough.

Oh, the prom had _started off_ alright—her dress arrived right on time, an Alexander McQueen original in a lovely shade of blue. Her hair and makeup went off without a hitch. Shiro, when he came to pick her up, was wearing black just like she asked, and he kissed her cheek for the pictures Coran insisted on.

Her father wasn't there to see them off—he was off at a business meeting in Tokyo—but he video-chatted with Shiro for a bit while Allura finished pinning her hair in place.

"Belle of the ball, my lovely little daughter," he said fondly when Shiro handed her the tablet. "You're aiming for Prom Queen, aren't you?"

She thanked him, the compliment sitting warm under her breastbone as she said goodbye and he promised to take next week off and spend it with her. She'd long since learned not to believe him, but it was a nice thought—especially as a treat after all the trouble the prom had caused her.

Coran drove them to school and dropped them off at the gates, and then it was game time.

It started off well, but 'starting off well' was about all that could be said for the dance in the end.

Lance hadn't turned up, which Allura was grateful for. As much as she loved her dress, he wasn't there to watch her completely and utterly fail at holding things together.

The fog machine going haywire she almost expected, the punch getting spiked was a constant, but she didn't expect the chaperones to get into an honest-to-god _cat fight._

She'd known Mrs. Holt and the Principal's wife hated one another with a burning passion, of course, but somehow her back was turned for the crucial argument that had led to Mrs. Holt dumping her punch all over Honevra's new Chanel dress (so _that's_ where the funds Allura raised had gone...), and by the time it had come to her attention, Honevra had an iron grip on Mrs. Holt's hair and Mrs. Holt was working away at a rip in Honevra's neckline while a ring of students gathered to jeer them on.

The other two chaperones, Kolivan and Ulaz, were sitting behind the punch table with war-veteran stares, topping off each other's red Solo cups when they got low. Allura immediately dismissed the possibility of help from that corner.

Shiro, bless him and his football-captain muscles, _did_ help her break them apart. Mrs. Holt got a swift kick between the legs and a headlock courtesy of Allura, and Shiro plucked Honevra clean off the ground. Together, they hauled them apart.

Neither women were very happy about that.

"Listen here, _you little_ —" Honevra was hissing through her teeth, while Mrs. Holt went for a much pitchier, "I hope you're happy with yourself, _you ugly disgrace of a_ —"

"You're causing a _public disturbance_ ," Allura snapped, patience gone, and both women flinched. "I'm sorry, but I'm going to have to ask you to vacate the premises."

"But _I_ didn't—" and "It was _her_ that—" were uttered on the same breath.

"Both of you," Allura said firmly, and that was the end of the discussion. "Come, Shiro."

Behind her back, Lotor and Matt exchanged exhausted looks, and went to go join Kolivan and Ulaz by the punch bowl.

It took almost twenty minutes, but she and Shiro managed to get both of the women out the door and to their own cars.

When she was done with _that,_ the cake arrived, which was _splendid_ , except for the part where the catering company in charge of it had gotten their address mixed up with someone's bachelor party, and there was a _stripper_ in the cake.

The stripper, sheepish and concerned after she'd busted out of the cake to find a bunch of startled teenagers, accepted Shiro's suit jacket to cover up with, and went to sit on the curb and wait for the cab Allura called up for her.

The sandwiches arrived much smoother, thankfully, but then someone came in contact with the shrimp salad and went into anaphylactic shock.

Allura, of course, was the one calling nine-one-one for the poor bastard as she jabbed him with one of the epipens she kept in her purse.

Shiro, cradling the pimply junior in his arms, gave her a look that quite clearly said, _why the hell do you even have that?_

Allura just pointed at her purse, which held everything from talcum powder and tampons to Albuterol and Ritalin.

Shiro looked even more worried.

(It wasn't really that she _intended_ to be the keeper of these things, but Ezor often forgot to bring her replacement inhalers, Acxa subsisted entirely on some unholy concoction of nutritional liquid and stimulants, Zethrid couldn't even be bothered to bring her driver's license some days, and Lotor might _look_ charismatic and put-together, but he was almost as scatterbrained as Acxa without her medication. It was mostly up to Allura to keep their friends more-or-less alive.)

Ten minutes later, she handed the kid off to his parents and the ambulance, and went to ask the catering company to add allergen warnings to their selection.

 _That_ crisis taken care of, Allura found a chair to sit in for a solid half hour, and spent the whole time with her head between her knees while Shiro rubbed her back.

"...Wanna dance?" he offered when she stopped hyperventilating.

Allura considered the offer for a good ten seconds before finally deciding, "...No."

Shiro patted her back again and admitted, "Me either."

There was a reason she asked Shiro to be her plus one to every event she could, and this was why.

When she finally gathered the courage to look up, she found that the mood of the dance floor had taken a subtle yet significant turn now that the party realized that their chaperones were either gone or indisposed. At her current level of hopeless defeat, she wondered if it would be safer to call off the whole event or to leave bowls of dental dams and condoms at each exit.

(It wasn't nearly that bad yet, but with the way this night was going, Allura wouldn't dismiss the possibility... or the probability. The last thing she needed was someone getting pregnant here—which was _exactly_ why she didn't doubt it could happen.)

She was distracted from her brooding when Shiro stiffened and hissed, wincing almost audibly.

She lifted her head, muttering, "What _now—_ ...Oh no."

Pidge had joined the circle by the punch table, an open laptop rested on her knees and a red Solo cup by her side.

All concerns about the potential shenaniganry happening on the dance floor fled Allura's mind at once.

Now, a fourteen-year-old getting drunk on Allura's watch would have been bad enough all on its own, but Pidge was the kind of genius that had skipped five grades because she was just that smart, and then had been held back another two for bad behavior. The laptop was _indubitably_ the more terrifying of her accessories. Allura felt a little bit faint just looking at it.

The feeling of oncoming doom only intensified as this year's Billboard Hits faded out and, in their place, the cheerful overture of _Yakety Sax_ faded in.

With the mindset of someone walking to their end, Allura got up and dragged her tired heels to the catering tables, passing and ignoring Matt and Lotor making out in the corner. Kolivan and Ulaz had given up on the punch, and were now passing a flask of whiskey between them. Zethrid was sulking because there were no lockers for her to shove the nerds into. Neither Acxa nor Keith were anywhere to be found.

At least, Allura thought as she picked up a miniature panini, at _least_ the catering had come through. God knew nothing else had tonight.

* * *

Two hours later, sticky-sweet and smelling of strawberries, pineapple, and vodka, Allura sat on the planter next to the stairs and waited for Coran to pick her up.

It had taken all of those two hours for the horror to stop. By that time, the gym was an unrecognizable wreck of food and party string, the catering company was charging her for damages, and parents were picking up their kids before the cops could do it for them. Allura was fairly certain that no one had gotten pregnant tonight, and she was clinging to that silver lining with all her might.

"Allura?"

Looking up, Allura fought the urge to blush.

Lance was standing there, bouquet in hand and wearing an obviously second-hand tux, looking sharply, _unfairly_ handsome when she was such a wreck. Keith and Acxa flanked him on either side, Acxa's pantsuit and Keith's starched black tux making them look like high-profile bodyguards.

"...Hi," Allura answered, her eyes sliding away as she lost the fight against her fluttering heart and traitorous blood vessels. "You look nice."

"Y-you look... What _happened?_ Where's Shiro?"

Allura almost chuckled, then gave up halfway through, wishing she was _anywhere_ but here—preferably in a shower, but she wasn't picky. Slogging through a bog would probably be more pleasant than _this_ humiliation.

(She would like to have it on the record that not once did she go near the punch table, no matter how tempted she may have been—the punch came to her, in the form of Nyma picking it up and dumping the whole damn bowl over Allura's head.)

"Wasn't the prom supposed to last... longer?" Keith asked cautiously. Acxa just looked worried.

Allura tilted her head at the open doors, gesturing them to see for themselves, and then bent down and tried not to be obvious about fixing her sticky, faintly pink hair.

Lance's entourage went to go check out the damage, leaving Lance himself to make his way over to her, uncharacteristically shy.

"I, um, got these for you," he said, offering her the bouquet. Allura felt a little better about her own blush when she noticed his cheeks were red too, even as her stomach flipped over.

"Thank you," she murmured, accepting the flowers and ducking behind them despite herself. The cellophane clung unpleasantly to her skin, but the blooms were lovely and her heart was _singing_ at the familiar gift after so long without.

...Right, the misunderstanding.

She inhaled, fighting for those words she'd spent so _long_ thinking up, but Lance spoke before she could find them.

"Can I sit with you?"

Allura jumped, stammering, "Oh! Y-yes, of course," as she scrambled to make room for him on the planter's edge. The fact that there was a good six feet of empty space on either side of her went unremarked.

Lance took a seat beside her a respectful-but-friendly foot and a half away. "So... the prom was kind of a disaster, huh?"

Allura snorted in spite of herself. "Someone spiked the punch for you."

"What? They stole my shtick?"

Allura grinned at him sideways. "And then Pidge found it."

"Oh no," Lance groaned at the sky, showing off the elegant slope of his throat.

Allura took a moment to admire it, then turned back to her hands. The red dye in the punch hadn't turned her lovely robin's egg blue dress _purple_ so much as it had turned it an icky shade of grey, which, really, was just to be expected at this point.

"It _was_ kind of a disaster," she said, and it felt like a sigh, almost. A release of the pressure that had been building in her chest and pressing down around her ears.

"...Wish I'd been there to see it," Lance said with a wistful smile.

"You would have enjoyed it," Allura said dryly, sticking and unsticking her thumb to the side of her index finger.

Lance took a deep breath. "...Hey."

"Yes?"

"I'm... sorry." He caught her startled glance and hitched up a corner of his mouth in response. "Shiro and Acxa explained what happened."

"I'm sorry too," she said, drooping. The bouquet's cellophane crinkled sadly under her stomach. "I wanted to explain what happened myself, but..."

_I was scared. I was scared of what you would say. Scared that you might not have listened to me. I didn't want to ruin it more than I already had._

"You were busy," Lance said, wry.

"Mm..." Should she let that be her reason? Let that excuse her? "I was, but... I wanted to talk to you. I wanted to go to prom with you. I could have said something about that."

It was his turn to stare at her in surprise.

"I could have been upfront with you," Allura admitted, "but I don't think I ever was."

"You wanted to—" he started, voice cracking, and then gave himself a vigorous shake. "Sorry, what?"

"I envy that about you, you know." She offered him another smile, coyer than the last. "How upfront you are."

It got her a loud bark of a laugh. "Upfront. Me. _That's_ a good one."

She couldn't see his face clearly, but his expression suggested to her that he was blushing. Allura bit the inside of her cheek against her amusement.

"You're not?"

"I've never been upfront a day in my life," Lance sniffed, then slumped, peeking at her with cautious eyes. "...Am I really?"

"Well," Allura said, and peeked through the bouquet. Upon locating a daisy, she reached in and worked it free, ignoring how the petals felt against her still-sticky arm. She offered it to Lance. "It took me three months to talk to _my_ crush, and that was after _he'd_ started trying to talk to _me._ "

Lance, hand poised to take the flower, abruptly froze. "Right. Your crush."

And then... let the flower be?

He stuffed his hands in his lap and let out a forced chuckle. "I, um. Good luck with him."

Allura blinked once, twice, and then clarified, "I meant you. I... only figured out how to reply to your notes three months after you started? Sorry."

She tacked on the last bit because Lance was now staring at her, the whites of his wide, wide eyes catching the light that was spilling from the gym doors.

"Me," he repeated, a crack in his voice nuking the question lilt before it could leave his throat. Then, "... _Me?!"_

"Yes," she confirmed, laughing, and offered him the daisy once again. "I... I'm rather fond of you." But that wasn't quite right either. "Or... I have the feeling that I _will_ be, if you give me the chance."

Lance hadn't taken the flower, frozen stock-still in place. Allura hadn't thought his eyes could get any wider, and yet they had, somehow.

She leaned over that polite foot-and-a-half of distance, resting on the heel of her palm and pouring every drop of her charm into her smile—and she had a lot of charm to pour.

Twirling the daisy, she whispered, "So will you give me that chance?"

Lance flushed so dark she could see it even in the light reflecting off the gym's entryway. Slowly, haltingly, he accepted the flower from her.

Instead of answering, he paused, then asked, "...Why do you smell like _punch?_ And cake?"

Allura raised her wrist and smelled it. Indeed, there were notes of vanilla buttercream layered with the strawberries and pineapple. She wrinkled her nose. "There was a food fight. Nyma decided that she did not like my dress."

 _"Rude,"_ said Lance, clicking his tongue. "It looks amazing on you."

Allura bit her lip, staring down at the ruined fabric draped between her knees, and tucked the compliment warm around her heart like bird's nest lining. "Thank you."

"...By 'chance', did you mean, like, going out?"

Allura fiddled with the bouquet. "...Yes."

Lance's daisy was much smaller, but he made do, twining the stem around his fingers. "...Ah."

"Yes," she agreed. She felt like an _idiot._

"Just _kiss_ already," Acxa groaned from somewhere nearby, and Allura jumped so bad she had to scramble to catch the bouquet before it could fall.

Lance, recovering from his own startling, hissed, "What gives?"

She looked up to find their two friends standing in the doorway, Keith digging his elbow into Acxa's side with a glare and Acxa turning her nose away as she brushed him off.

"Sorry," Keith sighed. He dropped his arm, leading the way out to the parking lot. "We're just going to Denny's."

Acxa, looking mildly irritated, followed him, raising her hand in farewell. "Meet us there when you're done," she instructed as she left.

Allura watched their forms retreat into the darkness and repeated, "Denny's, hm?"

Lance snorted. "And they didn't even go to the prom."

Silence fell, the mood still awkward, but much less so than before.

"...So," Allura said. "What do you say?"

She _heard_ more than saw Lance swallow.

"A chance... sounds good to me," he finally said, and Allura barely restrained herself from punching the air in victory. He smiled wryly for her. "I want a chance to get to know you too."

Biting her lip, Allura bent over her flowers again, flustered happiness warming her from cheeks to chest and head to toe.

"The kissing doesn't sound too bad either," Lance tacked on, the playful leer doing devastatingly handsome things to his face—and goodness knew she never thought she'd think _that_.

The tone said that he was _mostly_ joking, but...

Impulsively, Allura ducked in close and pressed her mouth against his, warm breath rushing over her cheek for one, two seconds, and then she jerked back, hot and tingly and _giggly_ all over with excitement.

Lance's smirk was gone, replaced by slack-jawed shock.

"Come," said Allura, hopping off the planter like her legs had turned to springs. She felt like she could float away. "I need to call Coran. And shower. I'm not going _anywhere_ until I'm less sticky."

Lance let out a strangled croak.

That was good enough for Allura.

* * *

Lance guarded the showers for her while she rinsed as much of the sugar out of her dress as she could manage, and then they joined Keith and Acxa at Denny's.

And, well. She _did_ wish it was under less... _inelegant_ circumstances, but she was holding hands with Lance under the table as he debated the finer points of pancake toppings with Keith, and that was kind of _amazing_.

It was the start of something new.


End file.
